


you're somebody else

by voirenrose



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Triggers, vent - Freeform, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voirenrose/pseuds/voirenrose
Summary: alternate title: [5 times kokichi tries to end it, and the 1 time he succeeds.]kokichi really isn't as bad as everyone thinks he is.it's too late to redeem himself anyway, though.
Relationships: Harukawa Maki & Oma Kokichi, K1-B0 & Oma Kokichi, Momota Kaito & Oma Kokichi, Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi & Shirogane Tsumugi, Oma Kokichi & Yumeno Himiko, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi (Implied)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 374





	1. ATTEMPT NO.1

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warning:  
> this fic will be really angst-heavy because i cannot and will not write anything else. read the tags before you read the fic if you think it might trigger you. stay safe lovelies x

kokichi wasn't as bad as everyone thought he was. 

at least, that's what he told himself as he rubbed his throat where the assassin girl had grabbed him once again. yeah, he intentionally provoked people, and yeah, he could be annoying and childish, but he did it to help the others. he exposed murder-chan, because the others should know that she wasn't who she said she was. that she was _dangerous._ but instead, it backfired and he was alone again.

it wouldn't matter for much longer.

he'd created plans and plans to try and catch out the mastermind, but at this point, he was too tired and apathetic to carry any of them out. all of them involved him dying; at least that part he can carry out easily. it's not like he hadn't tried before; the angry red rope burn mark that ran across his neck (covered by his checkered scarf all of the time) was proof of that. but this time, he wouldn't fail. after all, he had a much bigger reason to end it now. he was as much of a murderer as harukawa.

he'd caused the deaths of two people already. part of him says that he should have let miu kill him, but the other part disagrees - that would mean that everyone else would die as well. then they'd be stuck in the afterlife with him. funnily enough, neither parts were saying that he shouldn't have to die at all. and gonta, who just wanted to end the killing game, was now dead because of kokichi's plan. his tears at the end of the trial were true, no matter what he said afterwards. it was his fault, and there's nothing he can do to change that fact, no matter how hard he tries. the most he can do now, is repent.

he's tried to punish himself. in more ways than one: starving himself (or _fasting_ , as he put it), cutting, you name it, he's probably tried it. he's pretty lucky his uniform is long sleeved, because if the others saw the marks they would probably accuse him of attention-seeking - not that anyone is worthy of seeking attention from now. except saihara-chan. but there's no point thinking about him now, because the detective isn't some knight in shining armour that will suddenly be able to make everyone not hate him. his thoughts just keep spiralling, and there's an ache in his chest that just refuses to leave no matter what he does. he's tried to make amends with some of the others, but they just seem hell-bent on the idea that he's just some irritating little brat that knows nothing. a fleeting thought wonders whether anyone will miss him, or even care - if he's honest with himself, they'll probably celebrate that the ultimate supreme leader is finally dead. the thoughts fuel his motive, which gets him thinking. will there be a trial? will they be able to accuse anyone if he died at his own hands? his mind wanders against his will, and he just wants it to be _quiet_ and he wants to see d.i.c.e again, and he just-

there's a knock on the door.

kokichi is sitting in the middle of the room, on the floor; he can't move out of sight, because if he does, then that will alert whoever's there and they'll come in and see the knives and the rope and assume that he's planning some elaborate murder scheme rather than just wanting to kill himself. he holds his breath for as long as he can to try and obscure his presence, but still, the door swings open, and reveals saihara-chan. shit.

"ouma? what..." he trails off as he takes in the objects surrounding the smaller boy. kokichi can almost imagine the cogs turning in his head, and as it clicks into place, his eyes widen slightly. "what were you- actually, no. i know the answer to that. why?"

kokichi refuses to look up at him, only straight down at the ground. maybe if he pretends that he can't hear him, he'll leave him alone to finish this in peace. he's tired of faking his feelings, tired of pretending that he's alright, tired of pretending that what they say doesn't actually hurt him. saihara can't pretend he actually cares about him, right? not when he's never stood up to the others, not when he's _alone and always will be._

he doesn't even realise he's grabbed the knife until saihara takes a step back.

"do you want to put that down so we can talk?" he tightens his grip on the blade, refusing to give any verbal response. "okay, then. can i come closer?" kokichi still doesn't respond, just stares blankly at the floorboard. there's something wrong about it, but he can't tell what it is. it doesn't matter, he supposes. once saihara just leaves him _the fuck alone_ , then it will all be over. hopefully. one of the floorboards creaks and saihara takes his silence as a 'yes'.

he just wants to be _alone and he wants it to be quiet and he doesn't want to b e h e r e anymore and he just wants him to leave-_

kokichi's thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand on his shoulder, making a flinch ripple through his body as he jerks away from the other boy's touch.

"don't- don't touch me." surprisingly enough, saihara obliges with his wishes and takes a step back, but still close enough to be able to touch him with an outstretched hand. he attempts to switch into his "normal" - _fake -_ personality, but he knows it doesn't work the way he wants it to. "are you just going to sit there and watch me like some creepy old man? that'll make the others super suspicious - or do you already know that? you can't stop me." the last sentence is added on as an afterthought, but it makes saihara shudder either way. he's still there, though, which isn't ideal, but kokichi can make it work. he flips the knife around in his hand a few times, before testing the sharpness on the side of his palm. it cuts through, easily, and he hears the other boy hiss through his teeth. his lips quirk upwards slightly in a wry smile, and he flicks his eyes up to him. he's not focused on kokichi's face; more the steady stream of blood dripping from his hand.

"that will cut through some pretty important tissues and nerves if you do it there." saihara is trying to sound calm and professional, it seems, but he has a little tremor in his voice which is giving his true feelings away. 

kokichi exhales slowly. "that won't really matter, though, will it?" he uses the tip of the knife to trace little circles onto his wrist - not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to be able to feel it. "if what angie says is true, then whether my hands work or not won't matter in the afterlife." he digs the knife in deeper, before pulling it sideways to create another river of pink. saihara winces again, and seems to have a short internal conflict before ripping off a few ribbons of fabric from the shirt under his jacket and pressing them against kokichi's wounds before he can react.

"sorry, but i can't just watch you do this to yourself." saihara kneels in front of him, pulling up the rest of his sleeves and inspecting his wrists and hands; he's got a pretty good poker face, but it's still pretty obvious that the overlapping scars and cuts, both healed and fresh, are affecting him. kokichi attempts to pull his arms from saihara's grasp, but the other boy has a strangely strong hold on him.

"leave, then."

saihara looks up at him, golden eyes staring into his violet ones, and thinks for a few seconds without speaking. "if i leave to get someone, can you promise to not do _this-_ " he gestures to the knife and other objects scattered around the room, eyes lingering on the rope and chair beneath one of the beams in the ceiling- "whilst i'm gone?" 

"and why would i do that?" kokichi doesn't understand him. before, he seemed to hate him with his entire being, and then now he's trying to get him to promise not to kill himself? saihara doesn't seem to have an answer for that. "yeah, i don't think i will." the blue-haired boy looks him over, obviously trying to find the best course of action. he doesn't want to leave ouma by himself, but then at the same time, he doesn't want to be the only one around if ouma did...

he sits back on the ground, about a metre from where ouma sat in the middle of the room. "i'm going to get someone. please don't... do anything. okay?" kokichi refuses to reply, and instead just avoids saihara's gaze as the taller boy exhales softly. "i'll be back in a few minutes." once he had left the room, the sound of running footsteps could be heard down the corridor. so he had a couple of minutes to enact his plan? should be doable.

he starts by getting the rope and tying it around one of the beams in the ceiling whilst standing on the chair. he can't remember ever learning how to tie a noose, but he's not complaining. he tests it out with his hand, pulling on the loop - it holds, and he quickly puts his neck through it, with the knot at the back. he glances towards the door every few seconds, listening carefully if he can hear footsteps again. once he's satisfied that it's silent, he puts the tip of his blade on his wrist, just outside of where his wrist bone is. digging it in as much as he could bear, he rips the knife downwards and almost screams from the pain. his head already feels dizzy as he drops the knife on the floor, clattering against the wooden floorboards. taking a deep breath through the pain, he steps forward off the chair and-

-

as soon as shuichi leaves the classroom where ouma is, he hits the ground running. he has no idea who he should find; nobody else seems to care about the ultimate supreme leader, and some of them would probably actively support his death. if gonta was here, then he'd probably go to him, but-

there's no point reminiscing now. there's no time to spare, and he catches a glimpse of silvery-metal. part of him wondered what kiibo was doing out at two in the morning, but another part of him was just happy to find someone else, even if it was the robot with the strength of a moderately fit elderly man.

"kiibo!" he calls, rounding the corner to where he saw him. the aforementioned robot turns around quickly, obviously not expecting to see anyone at this time. "you have to come quick, it's ouma-" kiibo seems to sense the urgency, and instead of asking questions, just follows shuichi into the classroom where ouma is.

shuichi wants to vomit.

ouma is hanging from his neck, eyes bulging and face purple. his body is swinging, but there's no body announcement-

there's no body announcement.

"he's still alive-!" shuichi runs towards ouma and lifts the smaller boy up and onto his shoulder, but the rope is still around his neck. "kiibo, undo the rope or just take it off his neck or _something_!" kiibo breaks out of his frozen state, and swiftly slips the noose back from ouma's neck. however, he's still bleeding out pretty quickly, and so shuichi changes his position from on his shoulders to lying on the floor. he's unresponsive, except from stuttering breaths every few seconds. shuichi takes off his entire jacket and applies pressure to the wound with one hand; the other is checking his pulse rate and rope burn on his neck, where his scarf had been abandoned. kiibo takes a few steps back from the scene, before saying something about collecting bandages. once he's left, shuichi returns his full attention to ouma, who's trying to say something. he can't completely make it out, but it sounds like something along the lines of _let me die_ and _just leave me_. whilst keeping pressure with his left hand on ouma's right arm, he reaches over to brush hair out of ouma's eyes. it's only then when he sees the single tear track trailing along the side of his face, which shatters any opinion shuichi had retained about ouma being emotionless or cold. he's human, just like the rest of them. the purple haired boy coughs weakly, before trying to pull his arm out of shuichi's grip. this time, shuichi refuses to let go. "i'm sorry." he whispers, but ouma's eyes are closed and he's not able to verbally respond, so he just rubs circles on ouma's left hand's knuckles with his thumb.

kiibo is back fairly quickly, and has a bunch of medical supplies. there's bandages, alcohol wipes, gauze, medical tape, and suture kits. he doesn't know whether they'll need all of it, but they'll definitely need the stitches.

"can you go and find shirogane-chan? i think she'll know the best about sutures, and i don't want to risk hurting him anymore." he looks down at ouma's face, and lifts his jacket from the wound slightly to see if the bleeding has stopped. it hasn't stopped, as such, but it has slowed slightly. he wraps layers of bandages tightly around the wound, and then wraps gauze around it for extra protection whilst kiibo leaves for the second time. he checks ouma's pulse again, which is steady, but slow. the boy coughs once more, wincing at the pain in his throat, reminding shuichi to take a look at the friction burn. it red and raw, which could be worse, but is probably still uncomfortable. he should probably check to make sure his windpipe isn't damaged as well, but ouma seems to be breathing okay. he trails a hand down ouma's face, who seems to almost lean into the touch - a stark difference to before.

shirogane and kiibo don't take long to come back, but it doesn't seem that kiibo explained the situation.

"what- this is just plain terrible! h-how do you think i can help?" she looks to shuichi, who is still caressing ouma's cheek.

"you can sew, right? do you think you can use a suture kit?" she hesitated for a second, before nodding slowly. taking the kit from kiibo, she sits down next to shuichi, who unwraps the bandages and gauze from around the wound. the bleeding had definitely slowed, but it was still a pretty steady stream. shirogane bites the inside of her cheek, before preparing the needle and thread.

"this'll probably hurt a lot," she warns, before starting. "i'll do a vertical mattress suture. it should hold up even if one of the stitches breaks."

shuichi holds just below ouma's elbow, making sure that if the boy jerks (which he does, every time the needle comes in or out of his flesh), then it won't move too much. it hurts him to see the small boy in so much pain, but the stitches were important. after a few tense minutes, the cosplayer finishes and ties off the last stitch. ouma's still shuddering slightly, but that might be the blood loss making him cold. either way, he helps the boy to sit up with one hand supporting his lower back, and then drapes his jacket (albeit bloody) over his shoulders. 

"um... sorry, but if that's all you needed from plain old me, i'd better get going." shirogane stands up, wiping her hands on her skirt. "hope you feel better soon, ouma-kun." the boy doesn't seem to react at all, and just stares blankly at the floor like when shuichi found him first. she then leaves, and kiibo is quick to follow.

ouma is still staring at the floor, when he chokes out a single word.

"why?"

his voice is hoarse, and he's still shivering. shuichi moves one of his hands onto ouma's, which are clasped tightly in his lap. he's avoiding any eye contact, but that's fine by shuichi.

"we care about you, ouma."

ouma shakes his head.

"that's a lie."


	2. ATTEMPT NO.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i hate writing in american ways. writing "pants" instead of "trousers" made me want to hurl :(  
> also, chapter 3 spoilers (i think)! it doesn't go into detail, just mentions a victim.

the second time, he decides to switch up the location. he's always found the garden areas to be slightly more calming that inside the building, despite the large metal cage that loomed over their heads. he flips one of the knives that he stole from the kitchen in his hand, barely flinching when he accidentally catches it by the blade rather than the handle. he always carries his note around in his pocket now, even if he isn't actively planning to kill himself - although at this point, he definitely was. the double-sided sheet paper weighed heavily in his pants, but he ignored the extra weight as he pushed his back against the wall, hidden amongst plants. in all honesty, he couldn't remember exactly why he wanted to off himself, only that he failed before and now _needed_ to succeed because _an ultimate never fails-_

the knife slips in his grip again, and slices through a small amount of the flesh of his palm before lodging itself in his thigh. he exhales slowly, and has the sudden urge to jam it in deeper. he resists the urge, though; whilst it would hurt, he was more likely to pass out from the blood loss and fail yet again than actually die. still, he wiggles it around in the wound, listening to the squelch-y sounds and the pink staining his white uniform spread, before pulling it out. he thanks monokuma in his head for making sure the knives were so sharp, as he's not sure the normal level of bluntness would suffice for what he wanted to do. placing his palm on the floor and spreading his fingers out, he puts a pre-prepared strip of material in his mouth before stabbing the knife straight through his hand. there's a wet sound, and then the sound of the metal grating against his bones as he moves the knife around.

it hurts-

_good._

his gasp is muffled by the fabric, but he pushes through his shudders of pain and leans back. exhaling slowly, he sits straight and takes another knife from the collection sitting next to him. there's no turning back now, he thinks, as he digs the knife into the top of his wrist, before pulling down like one would rip off a band-aid. an unwilling tear slips from his eye as he watches the pink blood seep from the wound.

_weak._

he pinches the skin around the cut. hissing slightly, he watches as more blood flows out. why does it take so long? he's only slightly dizzy from the blood loss. he inhales, and pulls the knife from his hand. more pink runs from his hand, and he lifts it up to inspect the wound. it drips onto his uniform. it's a little bit sad; he can't really feel his fingers anymore, and soon that feeling will spread to the rest of his hand. his arm is still pumping out blood though, and he makes a few more horizontal cuts. he needs to finish this quickly, before anyone finds him.

_why would they find you? they're not looking. they don't care about you. no one does - not even DICE, who are probably dead anyway. you know that shuichi was right, don't you?_

_you're alone, kokichi, and you always will be._

_you piss them off and degrade them every single time you open your mouth. why do you think miu wanted to kill you? it's because even if she got caught, no one would miss you. she just hated you so much that she wanted you dead, just like everyone else here. that's why you're not on suicide watch 24/7. they want you to die. they want you to kill yourself so that they'll finally be able to live at least semi-peacefully here. you might lie to everyone else, but you can't lie to yourself and say that they do care. what other explanation is there?_

someone once said that "the greatest weapon against stress is our ability to pick one thought over another". but that's complete bullshit, at least for him. you can't choose your thoughts, especially when they sound like someone else; like they weren't your own words, or said by someone far away in a dream or something. god, he wishes that he could just choose not to think that he wanted to die every second, but that wish wasn't going to come true. there was literally nothing left in the world. nothing to leave to, nothing to look forward to if they got out of here. there was no point in getting their hopes up only to be crushed by the deep despair that was the fact that there was nothing.

nothing.

nothing.

n o t h i n g .

n o t h i n g .

but emptiness, and despair.

 _you deserve the despair, though. you deserve to feel as though there is nothing left for you because there_ is _nothing left for you. there is no one who cares about you. you're just a poor little orphan who made a little band of misfits and is pretending that you're some "supreme leader" when all you are is a fraud._

_a fraud, kokichi._

_a liar who can't tell the truth for anything, because you're a scared little orphan who doesn't want to face the truth that even if you didn't piss them all off on purpose, no one would like you because you're just insufferable. because you're a brat who-_

he is snapped out of his thoughts by a sharp sting to his cheek. it feels warm. he looks up, and sees harukawa there through his blurry vision. 

"wh-" he is interrupted by her grabbing the knife from his hand, and throwing it onto the ground with the rest of his collection. she then takes hold of his jacket, around the shoulder area, which is when he realises that both of his arms are littered with cuts. mostly horizontal, but there are a few long, vertical ones. he doesn't remember doing them. pulling him up, she starts leading him into the main building. his feet don't cooperate though, probably due to the blood loss. she quickly sees this, and hesitates for a second before crouching slightly, back to him.

"get on my back. we're going to the infirmary, whether you want to or not." he knows that he's too dizzy to walk, and if he doesn't she'll pick him up anyway, so he climbs onto her back. luckily most of her uniform is a dark colour, but the white trimmings on the collar still stain pink as his blood drips onto it. she doesn't seem to be phased by his weight, but he can't really tell. his head is spinning either way.

she's silent the entire walk there, refusing to look back at him, or speak to him. he can feel her collar starting to stick to her neck, but she'd probably drop kick him if he touched her, so he doesn't do anything about it, not even when her ponytails start clumping as well. it doesn't take long until they finally reach the room, and she flicks on the lights before depositing him onto the white bed nearest the door. the bright lights hurt his eyes, since he's been sitting in darkness for a while, but he doesn't say anything as harukawa rummages through drawers and cupboards to find supplies. he shuffles slightly, so that his legs are dangling off the side of the bed. if he tries hard enough, he can almost believe that it's not a bed he's sitting on, but a cliff. the wind rustles through his limp hair, and it tastes salty in his mouth. his arms shake slightly under his weight as he pushes himself off the ledge, feeling the dirt crumble underneath his hands. the sea shines blue beneath him, the sun reflecting off the crashing waves. if he's lucky, then he'll hit the surface hard enough to die from the impact. if not, then he'll die either from drowning, cold, or something else. either way, it will be agony, and maybe that's what he deserves ~~it's _definitely what he deserves_. ~~

just as he's about to hit the water, he's jolted back to reality by another stinging sensation. he jolts, before looking down and realising that harukawa is kneeling down in front of him, an alcohol wipe in one hand, and his left wrist in the other. she's looking at him kind of strangely, but she quickly goes back to cleaning the wounds. they don't sting as much now that he knows what she's doing, and it's gone kind of numb. 

"i can't stitch them. there's- there's nothing left." she doesn't sound worried, or anxious, like saihara did, but she hesitates slightly on the second part. she just sounds like she's stating facts, which he guesses, she is. there's a little pile of bloody alcohol wipes next to her, and she drops another one onto the pile as she finishes with his left arm. "give me your other arm. i'm going to clean them both, then wrap them."

the routine is practically the same this time, but she doesn't bother to make a comment on the state of his arms. he doesn't speak either, which is probably kind of _out of character_ for him. who is he kidding? he doesn't care any more. he's pretty much trapped in a cycle now, constantly attempting and failing and attempting again and failing again. he seems to remember something like that before they were trapped here as well, so he's probably just been a failure his entire life. he's just... tired. maybe he should take notes from how himiko used to act and sleep through 80% of the day to "recharge his mana" or some shit. at least she had someone who cared for her, even if she's dead now just like so many of their ~~friends~~ classmates. he hates being here, he hates pretending to enjoy this stupid _game_ , he hates pretending like it doesn't bother him that he's _alone, kokichi and you always will be_. the phrase rings around his head so many times a day that he can practically always hear saihara's voice.

he only realises he's crying when harukawa forces a tissue into his clenched fist. he's not ugly crying, like himiko was when tenko died, it's just a few tears slipping down his cheeks. he doesn't use the tissue like she meant him to, and instead tears it into little pieces instead of digging his nails into his palms, leaving little crescent moon shapes in the skin. he watches her as she bandages his arms. she checks that they're tight, before stepping back to put any unused supplies away, dispose of all of the wipes she used into a trash can, and to drop the blue latex gloves she was using on top of the bloodstained wipes.

"can you- can you not tell anyone?" he sounds pathetic, begging her to keep quiet about this. he just has some voice in the back of his mind that vehemently against the idea of suicide watch (which he _knows_ that they'll do) for some reason other than the obvious. she drops her hostile exterior for a second, before shaking her head.

"you know i can't do that." she thinks for a second, before speaking again. "since you're definitely going on suicide watch, give me two people to watch you, other than me."

this is probably the only deal he's going to get, so he takes it. after a few moments of decision making about who would be the easiest to manipulate, he comes up with an answer.

"kiibo and himiko."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pacing is really weird but that's because i cannot! describe! emotions! if you meet me irl, half the time i'll start saying something and then just stop because i can't get the words. so sorry for that :(( also i got the biggest compliment ever because someone said they liked my writing style and oh no my uwus are falling everywhere-


	3. ATTEMPT NO.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof so im basically doing one chapter per person,,, and ill probably finish this pretty soon !! also my country is on lockdown rn so i will not be going out at all (i haven't been outside for a week now and im vibing tbh) rip  
> also im going to use they/them pronouns for kiibo because frick you  
> btw,, trigger warning for eating disorders/disordered thinking/purging !! (also emetophobia warning ig) this wasn't supposed to be a big part of it,, but oof

harukawa insists the three of them watch him for at least three days in shifts. to kokichi's surprise, yumeno isn't that bad. sure, her new-found optimism could be super annoying at times, she isn't that bad in general, and actually begins to teach him some of her "magic". in return, he gives her lessons on how to lie better. ("for magic!" she insisted) 

the three take two four hour shifts each day to watch him, with kiibo starting the day by swapping with whoever was on last shift at midnight. they would then stay with him until four am, when it would be harukawa's turn. she was used to waking up early, and yumeno was definitely not, so that meant she was the best option. she would then take the next shift, which would usually be swapped over at breakfast as harukawa would physically drag kokichi to the dining hall. it would then go back to kiibo at twelve pm, then maki from four till eight, and then himiko. the two girls swap their shifts every other day though, just so that they could catch up on sleep. he felt guilty that he was wasting their times, but they didn't really seem like they had much else to do. 

it is currently just after breakfast, and kokichi is in his dorm with yumeno. she is lazily playing with a dove that she had somehow materialised out of nowhere, but flicks her eyes over to him every few minutes. his fingers tap incessantly against his knee.

his mind is flicking over everything he'd eaten over the last few days. since being put on watch, he'd been forced to go to every meal, as well as actually eating at least half of it, and it was starting to show. when they'd first been forced into the game, his monopad said that he was 96lbs and since then he'd managed to lose 20lbs in the five weeks they'd been there. at the start, he was technically underweight, but now he was worse than that, even with the meals they'd been forcing into him. his head spun every time he stood up, his fingers and toes were always cold, he couldn't concentrate, and he bruised exceptionally easily, which was probably most visible around his neck and with the mark from where kaito had hit him. he covers it with makeup though, as they would get way too concerned if he suddenly just stopped healing. but it's not like they would care, anyway.

he stands up abruptly and heads into the bathroom. harukawa had cleared it earlier of any sharp objects, or any that he could use to hurt himself. he wasn't really sure why she'd done that, if he was honest. it's not like he couldn't find more things somewhere else. nausea washes over him as he locks the door behind him, and sees himself in the mirror. he'd previously had it covered with a cloth that he'd taken from tsumugi's lab, the corners held up by knives stabbed into the wall, but harukawa had taken that along with the rest of his collection. his skin was pale, and his hair was dirty and matted. he hadn't really bothered to shower that much over the last week or so. maybe if he wasn't so disgusting and revolting and ugly and fat and _monstrous_ then they wouldn't hate him. then they wouldn't glare at him for existing. then they wouldn't remind him of how alone he truly is-

a fresh wave of nausea rolls over him as he turns around and retches into the toilet bowl next to him. only bile comes up, but now he knows what he's got to do. he's tried it before, but he stopped a while ago - before the game - because his stomach acid had burned through his oesophagus. he rolls his shoulders backwards, lifts the toilet seat up, and reaches his index and middle fingers into his mouth. his throat is sensitive to this now; he'd heard of some people that lost their gag reflex after a while, but his only got more sensitive. not much comes up the first time, but half-digested food lands on the inside of the bowl with a wet slapping sound. he can hear yumeno asking if he's okay from the other side, but he doesn't respond. shoving his fingers back into his throat, he gags once more and more food spills past his mouth. he repeats this process until strings of spit cling to his mouth and his eyes are watering past the point where he can see. yumeno has stopped knocking on the door, but she asked once more if he's okay, and once again he doesn't respond. instead, he flushes the toilet and turns back to the sink, washing his hands free of bile and spit. after spitting into the sink, he feels around the back of it for the tiny gap where he had previously stored razor blades. he wasn't sure if harukawa had taken them though, as even his hidden collection in his room had disappeared. as he grazed his fingers along the crack, he felt a small plastic bag lightly pass under his fingertips. tracing back, he pulled the bag out to reveal a small collection of blades. he could have almost smiled, but he was too tired for that. 

he opens the bag and tips two of the five blades into his hand, before replacing the bag into the slot behind the sink. he studies them for a second, and tries to see if he can decide which is sharper just by looking. he can't, so he tests them against his palm. he still has bandages wrapping around his hands from before, so he just unwraps them and leaves them on the floor next to where he's sat. he looks over his arm for a moment before hesitating.

there's... no space. his arm is entirely cut up. there's literally no space anywhere, not even further up his arm. his breath catches in his throat as he checks his other arm - it's completely full of wounds as well. he can feel his heart rate rising until he realises how he could kill two birds with one stone. he unbuttons his jacket, and sets it next to him. the blade might be a bit small for what he's planning, but he can always cut up the surrounding area as well until it looks like what he originally wanted to do. he grips the blade tightly, and presses it as hard as he can face into his stomach. he then drags it to the other side, and his vision goes white from the pain. he doesn't hiss, but he breathes out heavily, watching as the pink of his blood stains his white trousers. it's creating a little pool around his, but he can't actually see the wound. there's too much blood around it, sticking to everything. yumeno is still by the door, and her knocking has turned into banging. she's shouting something, but he can't hear her. all of his senses have gone numb except from the burning pain in his gut. he shifts slightly so that he's sitting on top of his legs, but even that movement sends sharp spikes of pain down his spine. the bleeding isn't stopping, or even showing any sign of slowing. it just keeps spilling over and around his clothes and staining the white tiles under him. he feels sorry for whoever has to clean this up, but at the same time, it will probably be monokuma, so he doesn't really care as much. his grip on his blade is slipping, whether that's from the blood loss or the blood that's coating his fingers, he can't tell, but he still presses into his skin again, about an inch above where he made his first cut, and drags it across once more. it's not as deep as his first one, but it still stings like a bastard and more pink blood spills from his gut. yumeno's banging on the door is now accompanied by the door handle shaking, but he thinks that he had enough time to actually die before she can get into the bathroom. he doesn't really want her to see this, but everyone has seen death now.

his head feels fuzzy, but he's kind of used to it now. it's a little pathetic, if he's honest; he can't even go a week without doing this again. the metal he was holding slips from his grip, and lands on the floor. his clothes are completely saturated with his blood, and he falls backwards before catching himself with his arm. the movement pulls on his wounds, and his vision goes white. he hears a click, a bang, and a scream. it's yumeno, and she sounds like she's right next to him. the bang must have been the door opening, but he can't focus on it right now. he feels her laying his body on the ground, holding his hand with one of hers and the other grabbing his discarded jacket and pressing it to the wound. he hears her yell for harukawa, but he passes out before he hears her coming down the hall.

~

he wakes up two days later, strapped to one of the infirmary beds. he can't see it, but he can feel bandages wrapping around his entire abdomen, as well as a hospital gown tied around his frame. from what he can sense, it seems like the ties had to be wrapped around multiple times. he smiles internally at that. it doesn't feel wet, so he realises that they must have stopped the bleeding somehow. it takes a moment before it dawns on him that he failed, once again. he coughs weakly, and he sees yumeno rush over from the other side of the room in his peripheral vision. his neck is strapped down as well, so he can't even turn to face her.  
before he realises it, she has a hand on his face and is wiping underneath his eye. his face is wet, he notes. is he...crying? he hasn't done that (well, properly) for years.  
"i was so scared, you know. it feels like yesterday that tenko-" she cuts herself off. "i couldn't bear it if you _went_ as well. i really though that we'd become friends now." she removes her hand from his face and wipes her own eyes. he doesn't respond - he can't. if he opens his mouth, he knows that he won't be able to stop.   
harukawa enters the room next. she's entirely different from yumeno's gentle worrying, and she looks pissed.  
"are you stupid? are you so _dense_ that you didn't think this would affect anyone? shuichi's been up for the two days you've been in here. i had to carry him back to his room and lock him in there so that he wouldn't leave and sit in here waiting for you." her voice softens slightly, as well as her expression. "he... we all really care about you, okay? i know it might not seem like it but we would miss you if you died, and if you weren't here then it would get pretty - and don't you dare repeat this to anyone or i will kill you myself - boring." yumeno flinches at the word _kill_ , but recovers pretty quickly. she squeezes his hand, before standing up from the chair she was sitting on.   
"do you want me to go and tell saihara that he's up properly this time?" she asks quietly, waiting at the door. harukawa nods, and yumeno leaves.  
kokichi looks quizzically at her.  
"you woke up a few times over the last few days. you were pretty out of it though, and most of the time you just cried for about ten minutes before passing out again." she exhales, before speaking again. "i wasn't lying, you know. everyone's been in here at least once to see you. even kaito was in here yesterday, and shuichi only left for our training sessions because i forced him to. by the way, you're now obligated to come too. even if you can't do anything, you'll be doing the same amount that kaito does." she didn't seem particularly annoyed with the way she spoke about the space idiot.  
there were a couple minutes of silence before saihara entered the infirmary as well, yumeno a couple of paces behind.  
"ouma!" he quickly stepped over to stand next to harukawa. "how are you feeling?" kokichi still can't respond, so instead he makes a little thumbs up and then flicks his eyes down to it a couple of times before saihara notices. he doesn't seem convinced, but doesn't call him out on it. instead, he looks to harukawa, who seems to have been designated chief kokichi-caretaker. she starts talking about what their next plan of action is, but kokichi tunes it out and the world goes dark around him again as he falls asleep. 


	4. ATTEMPT NO. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kiibaby time! also i was watching no.6 the other day (banging anime, btw. i watched it on twist.moe) and they were talking about hope, and i heard something like "kiibo". and uh,,, yeah. im pretty sure kiibo does mean hope (´͈ ᵕ `͈ ）babyyy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna be honest, i had no inspiration for this chapter and made it up as i went along. im writing this before the chapter, so if i mess up, i apologise in advance.  
> written afterwards: this took me ages???? like literally a week. which probably isn't a lot for some but i dont beta my work or reread it (oof)

professor idabashi had taught kiibo everything they knew. unfortunately, that didn't include how to find a missing kokichi. surely, it shouldn't be that hard - there was a very limited amount of places that he could have gone, but even after four hours, their search was fruitless. kiibo had checked every room at least twice, but that didn't account for the possibility that the ultimate supreme leader could have moved between hiding places whilst the survivors had searched for him.

as they opened the door to the dining hall for the third time, they couldn't help but feel guilty. saihara had mentioned that kokichi was missing at breakfast, but they had all just passed it off as him just sleeping in or just missing meals like he had before. harukawa looked a little worried, but not too much, as it had been a week since his last incident, and they hadn't had any problems since then. still, kiibo had thought at the time that it was a little bit odd, and their inner voice had been telling them to try and find the smaller boy (which should have been a major red flag), but they decided to wait until a little bit later to try and look for him in case he turned up a little bit later. an hour after that, and their inner voice was screaming so loud that if they felt pain, they were sure that their head would be in agony. they'd started the search then, and when they couldn't find him, they had alerted the others to kokichi's complete disappearance. it turns out that saihara had also started to look for kokichi, but with no luck either. they'd split into pairs - saihara and kiibo, harukawa and momota, and yumeno and shirogane. the idea was that if anyone found him, one person would stay with kokichi to make sure he didn't go anywhere, and the other would go and find the rest of the groups. it was almost surreal to see the small amount of people left. where the class had once been sixteen, now only seven remained.

at first glance, the room seemed empty, but kiibo remembered something about kokichi being a "master" at hide and seek, so they started to thoroughly search the room and the connected kitchen. they hadn't thought about it much before, but the grass growing inside was a bit strange. still, they pushed the thought out of their mind and began to check in the kitchen area, as the main dining room as an open space with no places to hide other than under the table, but then kokichi would have been in open sight. however, as they continued to search the kitchen, it was obvious that the supreme leader wasn't in there either. even though kokichi was small, kiibo highly doubted he would be able to fit in many of the cupboards, as they were full of utensils. a quick opening of all of the doors confirmed their theory, and they left the kitchen dejectedly.

as they opened the door from the dining room to the hall, saihara appeared in front of them. he had been investigating the close area, to see if there were any signs of movement, but evidently hadn't found anything either. however, kiibo could tell that something was bothering him.

"a-ah. i was wondering-" he sounded like he was thinking out loud, but he cuts himself off quickly, and restarts. "it's just that the air here smells sweet, but i can't tell why. there's not a reason for it, since no one was eating in the dining room." kiibo nods, and thinks for a moment.

"could it be coming from the warehouse? maybe he's in there and knocked something over?" saihara pauses, before nodding as well, accepting the theory. he then makes a start towards the warehouse door, making sure his footsteps were quiet. kiibo follows as best as they can in his direction, and shuts the door silently as well. saihara makes a motion about splitting up, and heads off to the right. kiibo can't smell whatever he could, but was going to try their best anyway.

there wasn't a huge number of places to hide the shelves were all full, and any movement of objects would be obvious. still, kiibo checked every aisle for the small boy, using their flashlight eyes to check in any shadowy areas. they couldn't hear any other footsteps other than saihara's, so that discounted the possibility that kokichi had started to move (unless he could somehow walk silently). as they came to one of the final aisles, they noticed a small spillage of some substance. it was brightly coloured - almost a fluorescent green, but kiibo couldn't tell if this was the sweet smelling substance that saihara was talking about. after checking the immediate area to see if kokichi was hiding in a space nearby, they knelt down next to the spillage and dipped their finger into it before placing the substance on their synthetic tongue. it was antifreeze, but kiibo didn't know what anyone would use it for right now. still, they decided to report their findings to saihara.  
he knelt down next to the spillage, but didn't taste it like kiibo did. instead, he nodded to himself as he thought. "that's definitely the sweet smell from the corridor, but i don't think that this little spillage is the entire cause." he brushed himself off as he stood up, before walking over to the door to the corridor. "it's definitely stronger here, so whoever took it probably spilt it or left it near here." whilst there was no definitive proof that there was any correlation between kokichi's disappearance and the antifreeze, both kiibo and saihara agreed that the two events were probably related.

as they left the warehouse, kiibo's inner voice started to shout louder than before. it was telling them to check the store room, and didn't let them take a step in any other direction than towards it. after relaying the information to saihara, the boy nodded and stepped forward in front of kiibo before opening the door

"the smell is definitely strongest in here." before kiibo was fully inside, they heard a sharp inhale from saihara. "ouma? ouma, wake up." they quickly moved out of the way of the door, before looking to where saihara was. ouma was there, but was barely responsive. saihara pulled a little flashlight from his pocket before shining it in ouma's eyes, checking the dilation. once he was sure it wasn't a concussion, he turned back to kiibo. "you said the substance on the floor was antifreeze, right? how could you tell?"

"i can detect foreign substances by putting a sample in my mouth." saihara blinked, before focusing again.

"do you think you could see if he has any of it in his system? maybe in his saliva? i get that it's a bit weird, but-" he started rambling as he checked the boy's pulse and breathing, but cut himself off as kiibo complied with his request. after a moment, kiibo confirmed his suspicions.

"there's definitely traces in there. i don't have the functions to tell how much, though." saihara informed them that it was fine, and that they had done enough. the detective then picked the small boy up with more ease than he should have been able to. he had obviously lost weight again, but that wasn't the prime concern at this point.

"i believe that ethanol is a cure for antifreeze poisoning. would you like me to stay with ouma whilst you find some?" kiibo asked him, after the boy had been laid on his side on the floor in the middle of the corridor. he nodded, before heading into the warehouse again to try and find something. kokichi had started to stir slightly, making tiny sounds as his system rebelled against the toxins, and kiibo placed a metal hand on his arm to stop him moving around too much. once the boy was at least partly responsive, he started to speak.

"wh-where-" kokichi looked frustrated as his mouth refused to cooperate with his brain, most likely due to the poisoning. however, his frustrated expression quickly morphed into one more melancholy. "why?" the single word was quiet, almost breathed out instead of spoken, but kiibo heard it. they didn't respond, though, and instead waited for kokichi to continue his sentence. the boy decided not to, remaining silent as he squinted against the bright light of the corridor. the tiled ground was cool against his flushed skin, and he absently wondered if kiibo's 'skin' would be as cold as that too.

exhaling softly, he tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes from the light, which was worsening his already throbbing headache. the key word being tried, as he found out his arm was cooperating just as well as his mouth was - in other words, not at all. he felt as though the whole world was spinning around him, but the cold tiles kept him at least partly grounded through his feverish delusions. he could faintly hear multiple voices speaking; he wasn't completely sure, but it seemed to be kiibo, saihara, momota, and harukawa. kiibo's metal body moved from his peripheral vision over to where the rest of the voices were. his head was pulsing, to the extent that trying to focus his eyes or even just moving them from where they were staring led to shooting pains from his eyes all the way down to his neck. however, his headache didn't stop his guts from repelling the antifreeze that he'd taken. as he retched, he heard footsteps coming closer, but he couldn't focus on anything but the stabbing pains in his stomach and the burning feeling in his oesophagus. once the footsteps stopped, he heard a 'thunk' - kiibo had just dropped to their knees in front of his face. the robot gently lifted him up until he was sitting against them, and then attempted to untie the checkered bandana from around his neck. that probably was the cause of part of the pain, but at the same time, kokichi didn't really want them to see what was under it. it didn't matter how much he didn't want them to take it off though, as he couldn't protest anyway. it got worse when the robot then started to unbutton his jacket, whilst saihara was saying something. he couldn't see the detective's face clearly, even though he was right in front of his glazed-over eyes. once he felt the jacket slip off his shoulders, he heard all those who were there inhale sharply. scars lined his body, both short and thin, as well as long, thick welts across his back. someone swallowed loudly, but he couldn't tell who.

he flinched as he felt a slightly warm hand touch his cheek, and a cold glass bottle touch his lips. he shut his mouth on instinct, and whoever was holding the bottle took it away. a short argument ensued, but once again in kokichi's daze, he couldn't tell what was being said. before he knew it, the bottle was back, but a smaller, more feminine hand was pinching his nose shut so he had to open his mouth to breathe. once he did so, they tipped the bottle back until the contents started dripping into his mouth. it tasted bad, and after a moment he realised what it was. they'd given him whiskey? where did they get that from? he didn't even realise that he had swallowed before the bottle was pressed up to his lips again, but this time without the other hand on his nose. the cycle repeated until the bottle was empty, and kokichi was nauseous again, but for a completely different reason. once the glass was taken away for the final time, he slumped against kiibo. they were just as cold as he'd thought they would be, refreshing against his hot and flushed skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was a very little detroit: become human reference thing in this chapter, so if you got it, kudos to you. damn, this is making me want to write a fic for that as well. honestly ive got so many ideas for different fandoms its pretty funny. if you want to talk to me about fics or just in general hmu on instagram @kinnie.onmain ♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡´･ᴗ･`♡


	5. ATTEMPT NO.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one time his plan works.

this time, it was going to work. there was no way it couldn't work, with all of the heavy planning he'd done. especially now that he had been shot with a poisoned arrow. he almost smiled at the relief that it was finally going to be over, but he stopped himself. there was still work to do.

momota didn't seem to completely like the idea, but he understood that it could end the killing game. kokichi didn't really understand, if he was honest. what was one life sacrificed for six others (five, if you discounted the mastermind)? and it wasn't like he'd be missed. he'd finally managed to antagonise himself to the point where even saihara hated him. god, it hurt, but he deserved it. he was a useless, pathetic liar who couldn't open himself up to a single person enough to show his true self.   
he could feel his movements getting slower, and he knew that he needed to speed this up. he gave momota a red book with all of his lines and anything else he'd need to act as the supreme leader, and shuffled to the press controls. the camera in one hand, he watched momota lay down on the metal, before shrugging his arms out of his jacket.

"you know, i think that jacket's really dumb." he spoke before he could stop himself. his voice was raspy, signalling that he was nearing the end of his life. they really needed to speed this up.   
momota chuckled dryly. "you think so? i'll keep that it mind." he gave him a little grin, before giving him a thumbs up and settling on the metal with his eyes closed. he was really putting blind faith into the belief that kokichi wouldn't end his life here. though, he did just save him, so he guessed it made sense.

simultaneously, he pressed the 'on' button on the camera and the down button on the press. momota didn't move, or even tense up slightly. impressive. once the metal was low enough that it would obscure all of his body, kokichi stopped the press and the video recorder. momota slid out of the press, leaving his jacket on the metal.

"are you sure that you want to do this? i'm sure that there's another way, if you want to back down or anything." momota was sweating. he looked more nervous than kokichi did, which he found pretty funny. "i wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to go through with it, i mean, shit, dude-"

"momota. shut up." he laughed softly, before coughing into his elbow. ow, shit, that hurt, "it's fine. i was the one to suggest this." his legs and fingers were tingling, probably due to the poison making its way into his bloodstream. he shoudln't focus on that.  
he held the camera out to him, looking up at him. momota took it, but didn't look into kokichi's eyes as their hands brushed against each other. the ultimate astronaut began walking up the stairs, but before they finished the plan, he just had one thing left to know. "wait, momota." his mouth went dry.

"yeah?"

"i..." he paused for a moment. "i wasn't boring, was i?"

he felt like a child, asking for its parents' approval over a science fair project. wait, he wouldn't know what that felt like. he didn't have parents. still, momota looked back at him, smiling sadly, before shaking his head.

"no."

it was his turn to smile now. at least he was good for one thing, even if he was useless for everything else. the cold air bit at his skin, as his jacket had already been deposited in the bathroom. he made his way slowly to the press, before looking one last time at momota. the other boy wasn't looking at him, instead staring at the controls in front of his as he ran a hand through his hair.

"you don't have to blame yourself for this, you know? if you didn't, then harukawa would have another death on her hands. so you can think of it as protecting her." he couldn't see his face, as the metal was blocking his view, but the choked hum of approval signalled that he'd heard him. kokichi shivered involuntarily. he hadn't done well with small spaces before, and now that he was here, he wasn't sure how momota managed to stay calm. "i'm ready when you are." he tried to make his voice sound as certain as possible, but even he couldn't hide the shake in it. it was hard to be calm when your death was literally right in front of your face. well, at least he knew it was coming.

"i'll start it in three, two, one-"

the metal began to close in on him. it was slow, but at the same time, it was too fast. there was so much that he hadn't done yet, he couldn't die here in a place like this. he hadn't stolen saihara's hat, he hadn't fed one of yumeno's doves, he hadn't cosplayed with tsumugi, he hadn't properly talked with kiibo, he hadn't talked about constellations with momota-

he hadn't made a friend here.

the thought swirled around his head as the metal touched his skin. it was much colder than he anticipated, and it took all of his self control not to jump. instead, he just took a deep breath, and tried to relax into momota's jacket. it was surprisingly soft, and it smelled like his nasty body spray that everyone complained about because it was too strong and he smelled like a locker room. right now though, it was comforting. he could almost pretend that he wasn't alone; that he wasn't going to be crushed to death alone by someone he could have been friends with to try and end a stupid killing game that he never wanted to be a part of and that he made everyone hate him in just so that they could come out stronger and now he was turning someone else into a killer because someone as pathetic and useless as him made a plan that could maybe work-

he'd forgotten about saihara.

stupid, stupid saihara who would always be able to solve any mystery put in front of him. the saihara who actually took time to try and get to know him, who actually liked him until he decided to play the villain and make everyone hate him, until he manipulated someone as sweet and kind as gonta and turned him into a killer - wow, that's two killers he's made now. maybe he should go for a record; wait, he can't because he's going to die now and his face hurts now because even though he tilted his head so that his nose wasn't crunched first, he can feel the pressure building up in his cheekbone and he can feel it cracking. both of his arms and legs have gone numb now, due to the poison. if he's lucky, he'll die from the poison before he's crushed to death. when has he ever been lucky, though? not when his parents left him in an orphanage, not when his first friend, the only person who had ever truly understood him, threw himself off a bridge in front of his eyes, not when he was ripped away from the only family he truly had, from dice.

from dice.

from dice from dice from dice.

where were they now?

were they managing without him?

did they miss him?

were they able to eat without him stealing the food for them?

were they even safe?

had they been able to keep the room in the back alley safe?

were they safe at all?

were they even alive?

he knew that monokuma's motive was fake. the dice he knew wouldn't do anything bad enough to go to jail. the dice he knew wouldn't get caught, either.

did he even know them still?

pain split across his face as he felt his cheekbone shatter. he inhaled sharply, and bit his lip to avoid making any other sound. the press was still coming down, and he knew that there wasn't much longer before the pressure built up so much that he'd just pop.

he was scared.

was he allowed to be scared, though? did he have the right to fear the time that he would inevitably expire, when he brought it upon himself? when he helped condemn others to an early demise?  
for a moment, he wished angie was here. she might have even prayed for him. asked atua to let him into his kingdom. it was highly doubtful that any other deities would. she had always been nice to him, never yelled at him, or hurt him, or hit him-  
maybe that was why she was dead. because she was kind. because she was too nice. was she naive? did she know the consequences of being trustworthy? at least if everyone hated him, no one could slide a knife in his back.   
he thinks he hears momota make a sound. he's not sure though. either way, the camera doesn't pick up sound, so it doesn't matter. he hopes that momota won't feel too bad; he tried to convince him that this wasn't his fault, but he's not sure that the astronaut completely believed him.

kokichi exhales.

his head aches with a pain that's like a migraine, but at the same time, a thousand times worse. this pain won't be relieved by painkillers. it's not like he'd live long enough for them to set in, anyway. a single tear slipped down his cheek, pooling on the cold metal as it left a sticky trail on his face. he hadn't cried for years. well, not real tears.

(if he was honest, he couldn't tell when they were real or fake)

his heartbeat had quickened considerably. all of his brain was telling him to move, but it was too late for that now. he couldn't move, even if he wanted to. the poison had settled into his muscles, leaving him immobilised as the metal pressed down on his skin. he was scared of dying, but wasn't it ironic? he'd tried so many times before, and the one time it's actually going to work, he can't help but wish for a little longer. he's not going to get it though. the most he can do is think, because thinking turns the seconds that are passing into minutes and hours. 

and then it's finished.

the pain erupts across his body, but he only feels it for a second.

~

kaito stopped the recording as soon as the blood spilled over the edges. he stood, stunned, for a moment, before retching onto the floor next to him. the little fucker had been feeding him, so undigested food spills out onto the ground, slipping between the holes on the metal grate stage he's standing on. he can't even think to be disgusted by it. all he can think is that he just killed someone. he just took a life, even if it was kokichi's. even if it took the blame off maki, he was the one who now had blood on his hands. he gagged a few more times, before clearing his throat and wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve. his jacket is poking out of the side of the press, where blood - kokichi's blood - is dripping from the side. if he touched it, it would probably still be warm. he banishes the thought before he throws up again.

he knows that he needs to finish the plan, but he's not sure if he can go through with it. a part of him thinks that kokichi will understand if he can't though. he takes the red notebook, and climbs into an exisal.

the show must go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh,,,, yikes. there is another chapter, but this is supposed to be the +1 if you get what i mean


	6. sorry

just to make this quick,

im discontinuing this fic.

i started this fic when i wasn't in a great place mentally, but recently ive been doing a little better. this fic was basically just a massive vent, and right now i dont need that outlet, and i dont have the same inspiration or drive to continue with it. im really sorry to anyone who might have wanted it to be finished, but i guess it could still work as a 4+1?

stay safe kiddies, and you can always dm me on instagram (@kinnie.onmain) or on discord (kinnie on main#8150)


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